


The Day Before You

by gravitation (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Depression, Hospitals, M/M, Male Slash, Mentions of self-harm, Noncanonical Character Death, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, famous!harry, stubborn!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/gravitation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has sunken deep into depression after the death of his entire family and the abandonment of his friends. He just needs that one push and he'll jump. Harry is only a bystander but that doesn't mean he'll stand by.</p><p>STILL INCOMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Day Before You : Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I CANT STRESS IT ENOUGH THAT THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGERS IM SORRY

I realize the wobbliness of my vision isn’t just from the bridge and its catching wind, but my eyes are cloudy with tears. I’m…I’m crying. Isn’t this supposed to be what I wanted? Shouldn’t I be excited? It’s ending, isn’t it? So why is my heart feeling so heavy?

Sucking in a shaky breath, I grip the bars of the bridge tighter and watch my knuckles turn white. My face must be pale with this chilling wind biting at my lips and I feel numb. I can’t feel anything, but I can hear the wailing of car horns beneath my feet and the creaking of the old bridge on its rusty hinges. I can see my breath cloud outside in the air and the now obnoxious crimson of my shoes. I wish I’d have worn different shoes, maybe then I’d be more focused…

But too late now. I can smell the musty odor of gasoline and rubber on asphalt. I can taste the sour of blood in my mouth, likely from my chapped lips and the force my teeth is baring down. It used to be something I did when I was nervous, biting my upper lip, but I’m not nervous now, am I? I mean sure, I’m afraid of heights, but I wanted to be here. Wait, what’s with the past tense? I _want_ to be here, I _want_ to do this. I chose this fate and I’m not going to chicken out now.

Who would even care if I don’t? And I don’t. Mum and Mark are dead… Lottie, Fizzy, and the twins are no different. They don’t care, they are physically incapable of caring anymore. Liam must be trying to find me, he has to be. He’s too kind to forget about me…at least not at first. It’ll become tiresome to him. And Eleanor…she’s sweet enough to pretend. If there was any one reason to stay, it’d be her. But not anymore, she’d drifted away from me without even knowing. She didn’t know me anymore, and for that I’ll never forgive myself.

But now I won’t have to, right?

What’s with all these prodding questions…? I thought this would be easier. Can I really just take that one step foreword and end it all? Yes…Yes, I’m going to do it. I’m nothing anymore, not to anyone. I can’t take this another day, not another hour or a minute or even a second. And yet I keep procrastinating, don’t I?

A small chuckle escapes my lips that have long turned blue from the cold, the scarf around my neck snapping in the wind. It’s beginning to become painful, this cold. The numbness had been so comforting. I didn’t realize blood could freeze just like water, but the lines of budding red had stopped dead in their tracks on both my arms. And just when Liam thought I’d stopped the cutting. Poor, oblivious Liam. He hadn’t even known it was this bad, did he? But then again, I was too damn good an actor to let people know. Too damn good…

I lolled by head back to face the gloomy blue sky, letting my eyes drift shut and my jaw hang slack. It was time. Either I’d freeze to death, or die from impact. I want to feel the pain, I want to know the abruptness of my head against the pavement so far below. I want it to hurt. I want everyone to know I did this on purpose, it wasn’t some freakish accident.

Forcing my dazed eyes open to the cold, I could feel the stinging increase intensely. My teeth pressed hard into each other, forcing myself to look past my shoes to the ground below. The cars were flying by, too fast to notice my figure standing from the outside of the railing. The ground was white with snow, coated in a thick blanket of it. And the flakes didn’t cease falling.

This was it, I could feel it. A gap between the cars racing underneath the bridge began to near, and slowly I could feel my own grip loosening from the bars behind me…without even me telling them to. My body slowly leaned further and further over the edge and I found that I really couldn’t smile like I’d so told myself I would. I suddenly recognized the part of me that didn’t want this, but oh, well, too late. Here I-

“Hey.” gruffed a deep, masculine voice behind me. It was oddly calm and casual, so much that it completely brought me to reality. My grip returned tight on the bars and my head turned a bit too sharply to look at the man. I was caught in green eyes that moment. I probably looked dumbfounded, because I really couldn’t feel my expression anymore.

I was swimming in the most defined emerald green before the boy spoke again and I came to the realization that he was actually around my age…maybe even younger. “You really gunna jump?” he asked, so nonchalantly that it was almost insulting. But the way he was biting the corner of his lip and the slight fear in his eyes told me otherwise.

I began to bite my lip again, because really…this boy had made the moment just that much more complicated. I felt myself slowly nod as I let out a tight breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Why was I listening to him? Why wasn’t I jumping? I should’ve just gone when he first spoke, and now I’m listening to him.

My clouded eyes meandered their way up the boy’s face, noting the way his chocolate curls tumbled in and out of his face with the crosswinds. Wait, noting? Why was I noting anything? I wasn’t going to need it for future reference. I was going to end it, and so I began loosening my grip on the bars once again, my breath catching as I felt the soothing warm that covered my shaking fingers. _He was holding my hands to the railing._

I couldn’t bring myself to look back at his tall, lanky figure this time though. I’d be trapped into his conversation, his voice. Which came out a bit more concerned than before.

“Is it really that bad?”

I blinked. What? Is what ‘that bad?’ I hadn’t realized I’d said it out loud until the boy was clarifying what he meant. I hadn’t heard my own voice in at least the two weeks I’d been missing.

“Your life...whatever’s happened…is it that bad?” he said, and I realized that I really, really liked listening to him talk. I wanted him to talk more…maybe a bit too much. Why was this happening? I wasn’t supposed to be here now, I should’ve already jumped. The handsome boy didn’t give me my chance to respond, but he likely knew that whatever I had to say would be a load of bullshit…or I wouldn’t be able to speak at all.

The boy, still holding onto my hands, stuck his chin out a bit to see down the edge of the railing. He set his chin over my shoulder, as if we were just casual friends. As if this was normal. What was this stranger doing to me?

“Looks pretty far down…” he commented to himself…supposedly…, “I’m sure the impact would hurt, you think?” he asked, green eyes glanced over to me and I swear my mind went completely blank. I couldn’t form words or even realize what I was saying before it left my mouth. I regretted it immediately.

“Yeah.” I said, voice quiet and deep…but not scared, more as if I were stating the obvious. Which I was. But i surprised myself on how steady my voice was, what with my head fogging up. However, I was beginning to cool down with the chilling air.

“Then tell me why you’re on the other side of the railing. Do you really want to feel that pain?” he spoke. I could feel the heat of his skin over my shoulder that emanated from his neck…and his hot breath breezing down my chest made my head go fuzzy again. I absently shook my head, not really thinking anything through.

“Please then, love, why don’t you come over to this side with me?” the stranger asked, a bit too breathy in my opinion. And it most certainly was not helping me make conscious decisions.

”..whdostmatr..” I heard stumble off my lips.

“Hm..?” he countered, innocent as ever, and I was so hoping he hadn’t heard it.

”..why does it matter…” I repeated, in English this time. My tone was whiney, pathetic, on the verge of tears and I hadn’t an idea where it all had come from. The stranger seemed genuinely troubled by me, eyes a bit more nervous than before. He wasn’t so smooth as he came off, he was trying hard and I could tell. Why was he trying so hard for _me_?

“Because, love, every life matters. It doesn’t have to be all screams and tears, don’t you have a family? Friends? They’ll miss you.” he said, as if he knew it all. I mentally found myself scoffing at him. This conversation was an emotional roller coaster ride.

“M-my family’s dead.” I whispered, blue eyes leaking tears. “M-my friends won’t care. They’ll all forget about me in a while…” I was crying. Really crying in front of this stranger. I thought the pain was going to be over, I thought I could be done with the crying. Everything was going so wrong…I finally shook my head, blinking away the tears and I let go…

“I care.”

I blinked, tears halting when I realized I wasn’t falling. The numbness of my skin was slowly being soothed. I could feel his arms around my chest from behind, clutching tight to the fabric. Several minutes passed by, and I didn’t have the urge or the will to pull away from him…and I began feeling more and more helpless and vulnerable, taking comfort in the tall stranger’s arms.

I hadn’t realized, but I’d been slowly and gradually relaxing back into him despite the bars that separated us. I almost protested when one of his arms slid away from the embrace and the rest remainder of the moment is fuzzy.

Before I can determine how to respond, his free hand is sliding up my chest to my throat. All I can think is _shit. I’m about to be strangled to death. But maybe strangulation is less painful than death by impact or freezing-_

Bypassing my neck, his hand takes delicate hold on my chin, turning my head to face his more directly. I thought maybe I was only imagining how the numbness was disappearing in my chest, my neck, my back, my lips-

I don’t pull away, to my own fear, I can’t. And I don’t want to, which scares me even more. My eyes stare at the handsome stranger’s eyelids, rested only gently closed. His lips are warm, comforting against mine, and it’s different than kissing Eleanor…or a girl in general. My mind is screaming _I’m being kissed by a complete stranger._ A handsome, male stranger who is trying too keep me from my own death. And yet I still can’t move, not even when he pulls away and I find he’s got this indignant smirk on his face and a glint in his emerald eyes. I fluster, blushing like a schoolgirl and stumbling over every word that comes out of my mouth. But his arms don’t leave me, and somehow the lanky boy musters the strength to pull me over the railing, and not leaving an inch of space between us, he hugs me.

“There’s always someone who cares. You just have to find them.” he whispers in my ear, and I can’t stop the blush that’s turning my face pink. It does, however, give me a bit of relief that the boy has the smallest blush at his cheeks too.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” he says, not even bothering to tell me his name after all he put me through and all he saved me of.

And while I know he’s leading me by the wrist towards the closest hospital, I don’t stop him. And I can even begin to imagine why.


	2. The Day Before You : Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis wakes up in a hospital but won't tell anyone who he is and before long he's been there a few months. He only talks to Nurse Anne, and all she does is drone on about some guy in some boyband. Soon enough, he gets his first visitor and it just so happens to be Harry Styles of One Direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly all Louis this chapter

I don’t quite remember if my meeting of the green-eyed boy was a pure work of fiction that my mind had only created for my own personal pleasure…he had been quite surreal after all. I’m also unsure of the reality of what was going through my head as I stood above that overpass and watched the cars racing beneath. Was I really going to do it? But adding to this long list is the idea that I really don’t remember arriving at a hospital either, though I can always hear the nurses spouting frantic nonsense and the consistent and utterly irritating beeping of a heart monitor. The women’s favorite phrase as of recent seems to be “He’ll likely be in a coma for a minimum of two months.” That is perhaps the reason as to why I’m seeing nothingness on a day-to-day basis. Well, I shouldn’t say nothing, but rather all I see is black, the back of my eyelids, or some ludicrous fantasies of the most insane things.

I don’t think that the doctors know who I am, though. I’ve never gotten my blood drawn, never been fingerprinted, and I was free of any charges from the state government…a clean slate really. They just call me “John” all day and night. What a dreadfully boring name, “John Doe.” They couldn’t have even come up with something creative for me.

Time has been a funny thing lately, rushing by like the wind. I’ve been trying to count the nights, which I only know by how quiet it gets in my room. But even that way, sometimes they work on waking me long hours at a time and I loose track all over again. My last count ended at 17, but I’m pretty sure the longest recession was at least 30 days. They must be growing tired of me by now, since I haven’t even tried to pull myself out of unconsciousness. Why should I? This world is carefree and painless and isolated. It’s all in my head.

The doctors always seem to think that an unconscious person has no thoughts, or so I’ve heard. But my take on this little world of mine is that when or if I wake up I won’t remember anything of this unconsciousness.

What a shame.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I can see the faintest piece of white amongst all this darkness, and the first thing my mind thinks is “Go into it.” It must be an instinct of normal humans because I didn’t tell myself to… at least not consciously. Ha, see what I did there… But before I can stop myself and realize that that light is, in fact, the world of the living that had put me through so much pain and suffering…and now I’m going back to it, I’m already there. And the beeping and hustling of feet in significantly louder and almost shrill.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My throat catches on something as I suck in a sharp breath, and I choke violently on it, trying to gather myself up enough to try and get whatever it is out. But my wrists are being held down my pairs of warm, soft hands and I seem to find slight comfort in them as something moves down my throat and I can breath again, as unpleasant as the feeling it. I find myself blinking uncontrollably, desperately trying to shield my eyes from the bright lights and see where the hell I am at the same time. My face must be so contorted right now, with all the things prodding and poking me in the most uncomfortable of places, but it doesn’t matter. I begin to hear the voices of the people soften and soften and the white is slowly being replaced by more and more black. There’s a shrill beeping in my ear that is almost on end, and I hear the nurses screeching for a doctor before I black out again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This time I awake, it’s much less painful and the lighting is dim enough that opening eyes and blinking thrice is enough before the wobbly world around my struggles to become clear. The room is empty, no one sitting, waiting for me to wake up. No nurses doting on me. No one. My heart sinks once I reach the cruel reality that I already knew so well before. I’m completely and utterly alone in this world. I bring my hand up to rub my forehead, which I find is wrapped in a thin roll of medical bandaging and tape. I prod my mind for details of this event but find it rather hard to separate real from fantasy, though I still don’t know how long I had been in this hospital in the first place.

And as if answering my silent question, a nurse saunters in with a clipboard, a bright smile pulling at her cheeks as she took a seat next to the bedside. She seemed quite cheery, and I couldn’t begin to imagine the reason.

The first thing she said to me was quite blunt, and I will likely find myself using it as future reference. “You’re quite lucky, young man.”

I truly realize the extent of this coma that had just ended when I try to laugh but only hear a strangled cough come from my mouth. Instinct to cover my mouth in surprise, I did so instantly, blue eyes wide and quite embarrassed.

She was giggling ever so subtly, averting her brown eyes, trying to compose herself. “Anyway, you’re inLibertyvilleHospital due to severe frostbite and blood loss, as well as blunt force trauma to the back of the head. You were quite a mess.” She said, a bit more sophisticatedly. She looked up at me ever so quietly before she continued.

“You’ve been here a total of three months, two months and eight days in a coma.” She said, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from bugging out in complete and utter disbelief.

“Yerkdding.” I forced out hoarsely, choking a bit over my words as they slurred together unappealingly.

“You were admitted her on the Twenty-first of February. Today is May first. Now, can I get a name for you, dear?” she asked.

But my mind went blank. I couldn’t form words, couldn’t blink without physically doing it and forgot how to breathe. The nurse’s expression went from questioning to panicking in zero-to-sixty, immediately she jumped up and pushed a button on the far wall. Soon enough doctors and nurses alike were rushing in, desparately trying to find out was wrong with me. And truly? I didn’t even know. But I kept hearing the world “Shock” amongst their conversations.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

_**2 months later.** _

My fingers are sore from the countless pricking and I’m sure they’ll permanently be colored black from the finger-printing ink. The doctors are about ready to give up on me, I think, because after the nearing five months I’ve been here, I haven’t even given them the slightest hint to my name or who I am. They know so much about me, and yet they know nothing. They seem to find it curious that with the broadcast out with my face on it, no one came forward to tell them who I am. It hurts a little, to know that Liam and Eleanor either haven’t noticed he’d vanished or hadn’t watched the news broadcasts about me. But I knew what would come out of this. So they still call me “John.”

I haven’t spoken a word since I woke up for the third time, not one. Countless therapists have visited, the doctors, the nurses, anyone in the building will try to get me to talk to them. To no avail. I won’t tell them anything, I mean…why should I? Would it matter what they called me, for them not to care? There’s some famous quote about roses like this from that shit play with all the dying…and I can’t help but wish I was there instead of sitting in this hospital bed, blue eyes empty and void of emotion.

I found out soon after I’d woken up, though, that the handsome, curly-haired bloke who saved me wasn’t my sub consciousness at full effect. He was real, and not only that, he was some famous singer from some shit band my sisters used to ramble about. I always thought I’d seen him about somewhere, figures. My most frequent nurse, Anne was her name, would always talk highly of the boy as if she knew him personally. It was slightly irritating, in reality. Apparently his name was Harry Styles, a vocalist of the “world-renowned” band One Direction, along with some guys called Niall and Zayn. He was 18 years old now, and quite a bit taller than when he’d brought me in to the hospital. At least she thought so, I didn’t quite remember.

Apparently, also, he’d gotten quite a bit of publicity from my ‘accident.’ All over the news, she’d said, Harry Styles: Savior of the Suicidal. When she had brought it up the first time, I couldn’t stop my eyes from budding with tears. Since then, I never even let myself think of that name…okay, that was a lie. I have since yet to cry over him though, some boy I didn’t even know. But it hurt to know he’d told me he cared…when in reality, it was only for publicity. At least one thing good came out of this, because my life at the moment is a living, empty hell. And I have the vacant eyes to prove it.

I only glance lazily left towards the door when I hear voices from the outer side of it, hoping to a God I don’t believe in that it isn’t another film crew or therapist. Because explaining all this to you guys has stirred up feelings I really, really don’t want to think about. But I hear Anne’s voice, along with a very faint one that I really can’t identify.

But when the door slowly rolls open, my breath catches in my throat and I have to remind myself to breathe. Because there, standing in the doorway in front of Anne, is none other than Harry Styles. And he looks the same as he did on that February evening, hair curly and eyes emerald. But Anne was right, he had grown a couple inches.


	3. The Day Before You: Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis lets Harry in, slowly but surely and then all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so last part!! thanks everyone for reading this miserable work ;)

_But when the door slowly rolls open, my breath catches in my throat and I have to remind myself to breathe. Because there, standing in the doorway in front of Anne, is none other than Harry Styles. And he looks the same as he did on that February evening, hair curly and eyes emerald. But Anne was right, he had grown a couple inches._

He was grinning. The little shit was _grinning_ at me. As if that made me feel any better towards him. I was publicity to him, that was all I'd ever had to do with him. My face wasn't even in the paper, it was all Harry Styles this, Harry Styles that. I had read it of course...reluctantly.

I was glaring, but the boy was either completely oblivious or it frankly wasn't going to bother him. 

And why was he here? It had been several months since... _that incident_...I figured I'd just live in the hospital forever. Die here and have a grave in the lot with the only thing written on it being-

"Hello, John." Harry sing-songed, smiling in a way that was just stupid and yet it was completely right for him. Innocent, heroic Harry Styles. I cringed at the name, knowing how much I hated being called that, my nose scrunched up in distaste. I don't really know what it was but I didn't like hearing him call me _that_. It didn't sound right and I had a want for him to just say _my_ name...and that scared me.

Apparently he'd noticed my nose turned up, because he pulled a smirk that was way too attractive to be necessary. "That's not your name, is it?" he said, pocketing his hands in his jacket and finally stepping away from the doorway and walking over towards my hospital bed. I immediately recoiled back into the headboard ever so slowly, not wanting to be close to the popstar and not wanting pity, but I _did_ want to be close to him. Obviously mind overruled body in this instance.

"I know you don't like being called John Doe...or do you?" Harry inquired, pulling up a chair from the wall and reclining back in it, like he owned the whole place and I found it rather irritating. I shot an angry look at Anne who stood in the doorframe, who was only smiling. She then turned on her heel and closed the door quietly and I wanted so badly to yell at her for leaving me alone in a room with a celebrity.

My eyes darted back towards Harry, looking skeptical and unsure of what he was really getting at, but I said nothing. I never say anything.

"It's hard to keep a conversation with you, 'ya know. I'd be so much easier if you'd only tell me your name..." Harry said earnestly, and to my surprise his smirk faded all at once and he frowned. He actually frowned, like he was actually concerned. Like _I_ actually concerned him. I swallowed thickly, not liking the feeling that was spreading from my throat to my chest.

He sighed when I didn't say anything, running a hand through his bed-headed hair. My eyes followed his every move because really, I knew when to admit that someone was physically attractive. And I'd come to that conclusion back on the railing of the bridge, but yet I still wanted, _needed_ to see him more. And that was a scary thought because I didn't need anyone. And they didn't need me.

Harry Styles sure as hell didn't need me.

"My mum said this would happen..." he mumbled and I must've had confusion stirring in my eyes or frowned or arched an eyebrow or something because he noticed. Or he was just fucking observant. His smirk crept slowly back up to his lips, a glint in his eye and at that I knew I might as well have been drooling.

"Oh, you didn't know? Your nurse is my mum, I told her to watch over you while I was on tour...I didn't think you'd still be here..." he said, voice growing more monotone as he continued and you could just feel his concern. It couldn't be healthy to be having so many emotions for one person.

I choked on my own saliva then, coughing violently and hunching over a bit because my throat _hurt_. No, this wasn't healthy.

And then I felt a hand on my shoulder, patting my back and rubbing circles into my shoulders. I froze completely mid-choking, blue eyes wide as saucers while I still felt the warm touch on my shoulder. I wanted to slap his hand away or cringe or do something vulgar but I couldn't bring myself to do anything because this was what it felt like to have someone care what shit happens to you. And I'd forgotten it.

I was crying before I'd realized and Harry didn't get any closer, didn't invade my space or try to pry me open. He just kept rubbing circles into my back while I choked out sobs, silent and respectful. I think we stayed like that for a while because when I woke up he was gone, but I still felt that lingering warmth over my shoulders. 

And I might've smiled.

...maybe...

\\\//

The second time Harry came to visit me I was asleep. 

Anne told me he sat there for an hour and a half, playing with my hair and I don't think I've ever blushed harder in my life.

But she didn't have a problem calling me out on it.

\\\//

"Morning, John."

...

"Good Morning Harry, what a fine day it is! How are you?" Harry said in a higher voice than his own that somewhat resembled my voice and I blushed because did Harry remember what my voice sounded like mine...but that was forever ago and I only said a few things...

Harry laughed at himself and I felt my chest stirring with admiration so I rolled my eyes dramatically. It was the only thing I could think of doing.

"Mum told me that you've been here five months now, and you haven't told anyone your name yet..."Harry said plainly, as if it was a casual conversation about the weather. I sighed and didn't look up from the book I was not really reading, just skimming and sneaking glances over at him. 

Harry had been visiting me for two weeks now, and I hadn't even opened my mouth once to answer him. I wondered why he came back day after day, to only sit in a hospital room with a mute, depressed patient who acted like he didn't give a shit about Harry. Why did he care? If that was why he was here...

"You know I'll bet your friends miss you... You seem like you'd be a party person..." Harry said and I frowned deeply at the thought of Liam and Eleanor, shaking my head in displeasure to the subject. And Harry dropped it, like he always did.

He was respectful that way.

\\\//

I took a shaky breath.

"H-Harry...?  
"Harr-y..."  
"Har-ry..."  
"Harry..."

I stared into my reflection as I repeated what was my first word I'd spoken in months, my last phrase being 'yerkdding' which was actually the first word in three months before that. So I was tragically under-practiced and my voice cracked at every syllable and even after I'd gotten through that my voice was just hoarse. 

Sighing and bending over to clench my hands tighter around the sides of the bathroom sink, my head downcast and eyes staring at the faucet. A frown was prominent on my face.

"John!" Harry called from the hallway and I couldn't help but sigh.

No, not today. I couldn't even pronounce syllables, I wasn't about to talk in front of Harry.

Maybe some other time...

\\\//

[OMFG IM SO SORRY GUYS I COULDNT FINISH IT BUT I FELT LIKE GIVING YOU SOMETHING IM SUCH A TERRIBLE PERSON I WILL FINISH THIS SOMETIME SOON PROMISE RIGHT NOW I JUST HAD AN EPIPHANY OF A FIC IM GOING TO WRITE IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY I AM THE QUEEN OF PROCRASTINATION AND IF THERE WAS ANYONE BETTER AT IT THAN ME IT WOULD BE A MIRACLE AND I'D THROW THEM A PARTY BUT THEN I WOULDNT BECAUSE IT WOULD TAKE ME 122338804485939+ YEARS.  
FORGIVE ME AO3]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe i'll write an epilogue or something but I am the queen of procrastination sorry xx

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, feedback?


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